


Temptation

by PrincessPenelopeNerfHerder



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9542603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessPenelopeNerfHerder/pseuds/PrincessPenelopeNerfHerder
Summary: Post COTB. Elizabeth is tempted by a mysterious night time visitor.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepylotus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/gifts).



> I apologize for the length of the one shot, but I couldn't find the right places to split it up. Warning: Here there be smut ;)

**Temptation**

It was a particularly balmy night when the devil first came through her window. Swathed in far too much fabric for such humidity, he slunk into her bedroom under the cover of twilight and whispered delicately into her ear desires that no maiden should hear. A proper lady would have screamed for help, defended herself, preserved her honor with grace and dignity, but Elizabeth welcomed the beast into her bed with eager eyes and a ravenous mouth. She was a perfect Jezebel to his Beelzebub. They lay sated in each other’s arms until just before dawn when the devil disappeared in a puff of smoke without so much as a ‘by your leave’. His sudden absence upon her waking left her to question whether the scandalous union had occurred at all. However, the few drops of blood staining her sheets revealed the truth of it, and all at once she felt…hollow. She hadn’t expected him to stay, but she had hoped he would have left her with more than a trail of tears on her cheek and a nagging pain like that of a pinprick, gnawing away at her insides.

The pain was imperceptible at first, so imperceptible she had not a name for it, but as the days passed, it grew exponentially and she named it for what it was: shame. Shame for succumbing so easily to temptation and her own wanton desires. Shame for believing their coupling would matter more than it so clearly had. Shame for allowing someone other than her fiancé to have claim of her virtue. 

She’d kept her distance from Will in the few weeks that followed. It became unbearably difficult to maintain his gaze, and she was fearful he could smell the ruin upon her skin. It was then her shame had transformed to guilt.

Soon enough, that guilt turned into anger and from anger into something she didn’t have a name for. Her pain had grown into an insatiable hunger, an obsession. There was nothing that would slake her thirst and her most noble fiancé was less than willing to help. “It isn’t proper, Elizabeth” he would say to her, further adding to her frustration.

Thoughts of her midnight visitor began to consume her very being. She found herself unable to concentrate during meals with her father, outings into town, or any activity for that matter. Just imagining his calloused hands roaming across the contours of her ivory skin caused her to tremble. Will and her father were beginning to worry she was coming down with a fever. They weren’t incorrect, it was a fever, but of a different kind.

She lay awake at night, tracing the places he’d touched her with her own hands in hopes to recreate the fire he’d sparked within her. Every shadow that danced upon the ceiling became a torturous glimmer of hope that he’d returned to her. Salacious dreams bandied about her unconsciousness, haunting her night after night, forcing her to wake in a bed of sweat she could hardly blame on the Caribbean heat.

Nearly half a year had passed when he stole into her bedroom the second time. Surprised to find her still awake and sitting up against her headboard, a curious sheen of sweat glistening on her face, he stayed perched near the open window with an infuriating smirk upon his lips. She greeted him with a hard slap across the cheek and a few choice words that quickly became muffled as he clamped a hand over her mouth, lest she wake the whole household with her screaming. She was furious with him for making a fool of her, for taking advantage of her. She pummeled his chest with her fists as he held her tightly to him, willing her to calm down with his strength alone. When she finally stopped her thrashing, he pressed his mouth against her ear, whispering apologies and declarations of longing. With each word that passed his lips, her center began to ache with wanting, the warmth of his breath ghosting across her skin, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She didn't want him to know of the effect he was having on her, knowing full well he’d use it against her, but with great reluctance, she forgave him, the feel of his body against hers the salve she’d been craving those long months.

He captured her mouth in a surprisingly loving kiss, tongue dancing gently along her own, asking her silently for permission. She responded in spades, taking control of their tryst into her own hands. He was caught off guard when she pushed him up against the wall, kissing him hungrily while shoving the coat from his shoulders. His hands reached forward to untie the laces of her nightgown, but she swatted them away, keeping his prize just out of reach. She broke the kiss and ran her tongue along her bottom lip, the sweet taste of rum and salt still lingering upon them. She smirked at the look of awe upon his face. Clearly, he was unaware of what he had unleashed in her.

Surprising him further, she grabbed him by the shirt and swung him around, pushing him down upon her bed. She practically tore the garment from him as she straddled his waist, claiming his mouth again. Grinding her hips against his, a wave of heat burned at her core as his length hardened beneath her. Her hands explored his bare chest with childish fascination. She wanted to memorize every scar, every mark. Her lips trailed soft kisses from nape to naval, and every time he attempted to touch her, she would slap his hands away, rendering him helpless as she continued her expedition of his person. Nimble fingers undid the plethora of belts and sashes he insisted on wearing. “You have too much time on your hands if all this is done purposefully,” She said in mock frustration as he kicked off his boots. Finally divesting him of his breeches, she stood between his legs as they hung off the bed, gripping his thighs in her hands. In a slow, tormenting motion, she slid her hands forward along the tops of his legs, inching closer and closer to his throbbing manhood.

She continued to tease him, her mouth hovering just above his most sensitive area. He was squirming beneath her, the anticipation nearly killing him. With a beguiling smile, she laved him with her serpentine tongue, plucking perfectly the taught string his body had become. He gave a satisfied groan as she continued her ministrations, eventually taking the whole of him into her mouth. He was nearing his breaking point when he pushed her shoulders back forcefully. “Enough.” He grumbled. For a moment, she thought he was angry with her, but he assuaged her fear when he sat up and grabbed for her hands, pulling her onto his lap. “I can’t allow you to do all the work, love.” He said catching his breath. His hand cupped her cheek as he brought her face to his, kissing her with all the gentleness of a longtime lover. Her insides were molten, pulsing, aching for him.

He lay back, encouraging her to straddle him once again. He could feel the heat radiating from her quim through the fabric of her night dress. Slowly, carefully, he brought his hands to her thighs, not wanting to be denied the feel of her skin beneath his as he had before. To his delight, she allowed the contact, and he slid her night gown up just above her waist, revealing all of her to him. As he traced his fingers along the inside of her thigh, she began to writhe above him, her breathing growing heavier by the moment. His thumb reached her center and began moving in slow circles around the sweet, pink pearl above it. She let out a gasp and with his other hand he pulled her down to him by the front of her gown in order to capture her mouth. Devouring her with hungry kisses while his fingers continued their dance in and around her folds. Elizabeth bucked as she started to reach a fever pitch, moaning into the pirate’s mouth.  He removed his hands just before she came and rested them upon her rear, lifting her up just slightly, so he could enter her. She caught on and quickly lowered herself onto him, filling herself to the hilt with a satisfied smirk painting her lips.

They were on a level playing field now, each desperate for the other with voracious hunger. He lifted her night dress over her head in one swift motion. She laughed at his triumphant grin from behind her fallen tresses. He lightly brushed his hands down either side of her torso, savoring the feeling of her unmarred skin. He gripped her hips tightly, worshiping the beautiful siren as she lifted and lowered herself in rhythm with his guided motions. She was wild as she bounced upon him, her golden hair draping around her as if she were Aphrodite herself. He brought his thumb back to the magical place just above her sex and continued to move in circles as he thrust his hips into her. Her whole body began to tingle as they moved together, her gasps were quickly turning to whimpers and Jack sat up at once, capturing her mouth with his before her whimpers turned to screams. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly to him while he continued to guide her movements. He dared to leave her lips and trailed his own along her neck, tasting the sweetness of her scent. She used her newly freed mouth to nibble along his ear, whispering her own decadent desires as she wrapped her arms about his neck to give her a bit of leverage as she rode him. They moved together, faster and faster, bodies slick with sweat from the torridity of their love making. With a burst of light and an explosion of heat deep within her loins, she bit down on his shoulder as she came, hoping to muffle her cries just enough to keep their secret. He followed shortly after, spilling inside her as she tightened around him. Panting, they remained embraced until he muttered something inaudibly into her shoulder. She pulled back with a questioning gaze, urging him to repeat his words. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to…” His eyes were filled with worry, and he couldn’t hold her gaze. She found it curious and a little sweet that he was fretting over her.

She put his face in her hands and lifted his gaze to her. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I’ve been more than a willing participant in our little game.” She assured him.

“That’s not what I mean.” He said pressing a kiss to each palm as they rested against his cheeks.

She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve no intention to father any bastards.” He said flustered

She gave a hearty laugh at the pained expression on his face. “What is so funny?” He asked gruffly.

“Fear not, Captain Sparrow, I’ve taken the necessary precautions to prevent any of your bastards from being spawned.” She flashed him her devilish grin that always drove him to the brink of sanity.

“You were so certain I’d come back?” He said to her as she disentangled herself from him. She noticed him watching her as she rummaged around her bedchamber for cloth and a basin of water, and smiled at his obvious display of admiration.

Finding the items in question she returned to the bed and dipped the cloth into the water. “Not at all” She answered. “But I had hoped, and I wanted to be prepared.” She knelt before him and gently pressed the damp cloth to his skin, carefully wiping away the sweet nectar left behind from their finish. He threw his head back and closed his eyes as she did so, relishing in the coolness upon his skin.

“What a scandal that must have caused, when you visited the apothecary.” He exhaled.

“Hardly. I sent a hand maid.” She stated simply.

His head snapped forward. “She’s trustworthy, I assume?” He questioned her from beneath a scrutinizing gaze.

She gave him a sideways look. “Enough. Besides, Jack, I’m engaged to be married. One could hardly expect me to stay virtuous forever.” She spouted impishly.

“Certainly not.” He pronounced with a simper, grabbing her hand and taking the cloth from her. “Your turn.” He spoke in a gravelly tenor, pulling her to her feet. He bent down and dipped the cloth into the basin, swirling it around the tepid water. He gently washed the inside of her thighs, and with even more care he drug the cloth across her slit, finishing his task with a quick laving from his tongue. She shuddered at the contact, eliciting a small mischievous smile from the pirate captain. He returned his attention to her honeypot and continued to suckle the juices there, his tongue twisting and twirling as it explored her. The sensation forced her knees to buckle and she wondered if maybe this devilish rogue was not also sorcerer. She nearly collapsed on top of him as she reached her climax, but strong hands held her firmly in place.

He stood slowly, caressing the length of her body as he did so. She shivered beneath his touch with ragged breath and ruddied cheeks. He faced her with an amused smirk and tucked a few stray locks behind her ear. His smile faltered slightly, betraying a feeling he had rather hoped to keep hidden.

“You’re leaving, aren't you?” She asked of him, wiser now than she was during his last visit.

“Not yet, but before morning. Wouldn’t want to give the game away, now would we?” He asked softly, pressing a hand to her cheek. She leaned into his palm with closed eyes, and inhaled deeply. He pulled her to him and held her tightly for a long moment, before ushering her to the bed.

They lay together, limbs wrapped up into a knot, talking of what the other had done in their time apart. She asked him where he’d been and why he hadn’t come sooner. He showered her with tales of treasure lost and a close encounter with the good Commodore Norrington that delayed his return to Port Royal. He asked of her engagement, though he didn’t really care to hear it, and she spoke of her frustrations with propriety. “He doesn’t want to see you ruined. Can’t fault the boy for that.” He’d told her.

“So says the wellspring of my ruination.” She teased mirthfully.

“That’s the difference between me and the lad; he’ll worship you from afar never daring to touch the forbidden fruit for fear of it slipping from his grasp.” He said, ghosting his hand over her stomach.

“And you?” She breathed heavily, anticipating his hands upon her once again. He began to trace delicately patterns on her abdomen, before letting his fingers travel further south.

“I never let an opportune moment…slip.” He paused, sliding a finger inside her, curling it back in a come-hither motion once or twice before removing it again, eliciting a wonton gasp from the fair-haired vixen. “Through my fingers.” He finished, popping the digit in his mouth savoring the taste of her.

Elizabeth sighed heavily and buried her head into his chest. “Take me with you.” She hummed, placing a few soft kisses against the base of his neck.

“Lizzie, love, you don’t really want that.” He pulled back with a concerned smile.

“How do you know what I want?” She asked him, her tone beginning to gain an edge.

“I know that you’re too young to make a choice like that. Besides, you’re to be married to a fine lad who thinks the world of you, and once you are, I’ll become a distant, yet very fond, figment from your past.” He said with the wave of his fingers. “And if they boy falls short when it comes to your pleasure, you’ll at least have your memories to help you through the tedium.” He teased.

She slapped a hand against his chest for his last comment, but she supposed he was right. Giving up the life she knew and trading it all in to live a life at sea, seemed a grand fantasy, indeed. And Jack could hardly be considered the sort of man who would settle down, so she would savor their time together for as long as it lasted and start squirreling away her memories.

“You’ll be back?” She asked, though it was more of a command.

Her penetrating glare prompted an uncharacteristically honest response from him. “Aye. Weather permitting, and as long as I remain two steps ahead of Norrington.” He assured her, hugging her tightly to him.

“Good.” She said, drifting off to sleep. “Wake me before you leave this time.”

“As you command.” He answered pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When she woke in the morning he had gone again. He had not kept his promise to wake her before he left, nor did she really expect him to. Especially, after she’d asked him to take her away with him. That was bold, even for her. Still, she wished he’d stolen one last kiss before he stole into the night and back to his ship.

Her mood improved in the days that followed. She was eager for Jack’s return and her days were filled with real hope instead of the lies she’d been feeding herself before. He’d kept his promise to return, and did so four more times over the next six months, always coming in with the moon and leaving with the sun. She’d gotten use to the oddity of such an arrangement and found she rather enjoyed it. He would regale her with tales of grand adventures, and she’d lament to him her boredom and irritation with modern society. He’d bring her trinkets and baubles and she’d give him bundles of new clothing. She’d begun to acquire a taste for rum, having conceded finally to his persistent insistence. Though, she’d proven him right about the liquid’s malign properties. One night they both partook in too much of the drink and were nearly found out when Jack had failed to leave before the sun rose and the household awoke. Her father’s rapping upon her door startled them sober. Jack was forced to hide in her bureau while Elizabeth quite expertly rid of her father. She’d opened the bureau with a feigned scowl.

“You have unshakeable resolve, darling. Not even a flush.” He’d said, impressed as brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

 “It was not the first time I’ve lied to my father; nor will it be the last.” She answered back smoothly.

"What a pirate you would make.” He observed with a grin as he leaned in to steal a kiss.

“Don’t tease me.” She warned as she pushed him away. Nodding in understanding, he bent low and kissed her again, more tenderly than before.

“Until next time.” He announced with an exaggerated bow and she rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness before sending him on his way. Thankfully her handmaid was as trustworthy as she appeared and helped him off the premises unseen.

His frequent visits did little to decrease her _appetites._ He’d shown her a multitude of new and tantalizing realms of pleasure with every visit, leaving her more lustful and wanting than ever. Will, ever the gentleman, was still unwilling to tarnish her good name, so she had to find other ways to relieve her tension. Every afternoon, she would wander down to the smithy where Will would teach her the finer points of sword play. Every so often, she still felt a small amount of guilt niggling her insides when spending time with the young blacksmith. He loved her with all his being, he was kind and considerate, and she desperately didn’t want to hurt him, but he’d no concept at all of what his fiancé was up to when the clock struck midnight and she dared not think of what he’d say if he did. Even through all the guilt and second guessing, never once did she think to put an end to her dalliance with the devil. The temptation was far too great.

It wasn’t long before he returned Port Royal’s harbor again. Her barely contained excitement was all that was needed to push any misgivings she’d had to the far recesses of her mind. The Pirate had not stolen through her window, as per the usual routine, but had sent a missive with her handmaid, detailing specific instructions on how to get to the Pearl.

With some help from the young maid, Elizabeth dressed herself in clothes borrowed from the stable boy. She stuffed her hair into a cap and dirtied her face with soot from the hearth before she climbed out her window, down the trellis, and onto the path to her tempter.

The path leading to the Pearl was arduous at best, but it was not unfamiliar to her. She remembered venturing along the same path when she was a young girl pretending to be a pirate. She had to laugh to herself about that as it seemed to her not much had changed. Immersed in her musings, she nearly lost her footing as she was rounding the cliff that led to the hidden beach. Luckily, she managed to cling tightly to the rocks and continued on her way, all the while feeling silly for letting thoughts of a man distract her so, especially since that man was not her betrothed.

Finally, her feet hit the sand, and she headed down the beach. Out on the horizon, the Black Pearl sat silhouetted against the moon, but on the beach a bonfire burned brightly as the Pearl’s crew sat about drinking and singing sea shanties. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling at the sight of them. So carefree, so happy, she envied their lack of entanglements, their lack of a tether.

She approached the fire and was greeted with the barrel of a pistol. “What’s your business here?” The pirate barked. His face was unfamiliar to her.

“I’m here to see Captain Sparrow.” She answered shakily.

“Who sent you, boy?” He asked, cocking the pistol.

Remembering her attire, Elizabeth doffed her cap at once. “I’m Elizabeth, he’s expecting me.”

Gibbs heard the commotion and came over in an instant. “Calm yourself, Henry. She’s a friend.” He said to the armed pirate before enveloping her in a big bear hug and twirling her around in the sand with drunken glee. He escorted her to the group, and the rest of the crew said their hello’s, offering food and rum as she passed. Before she could ask where Jack was, a half-clad figure rose from the water and began stalking toward the beach.

“Lizzie!” He bellowed with open arms. “Now the celebration can truly begin.” He exclaimed, scooping up a bottle of rum from the sand. “What on earth are you wearing?” He questioned disapprovingly.

“The shrouds of freedom.” She snickered. Her eyes fell to his sun bronzed chest glowing in the firelight, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away as the heat between her legs began to pulse. She desperately wanted to reach for him, but was leery to do so in front of the crew.

“They’ll do for now.” He said with a wink and snuck a quick kiss to her cheek before sitting upon a log near the fire, shaking her from her lascivious thoughts.

“What are we celebrating?” She asked still standing in front of the fire.

“We” he gestured for her to sit next to him “have come across pertinent information that will lead us to the finding of a treasure which will save me from a lifetime of hell.” He finished with exaggerated grandiosity.

“A lifetime of servitude you mean.” Gibbs corrected him and Jack shot him a murderous glare.

“Servitude?” Elizabeth echoed with piqued curiosity.

“It’s a long story, that hardly matters anymore.” Jack said hurriedly.

“I think I’d like to hear it.” She argued and turned to Jack’s inebriated first mate at once. “Servitude?” She prompted him again.

“Aye, servitude. Thirteen years as Captain of the Black Pearl in exchange for one hundred years of servitude aboard the Flying Dutchman.” Gibbs slurred.

“The Ghost Ship? I thought that was just a story sailors told to frighten one another.” Elizabeth looked to Jack in disbelief, but the expression upon his face told her this was no tall tale.

“How did you happen upon the Dutchman?” She asked him carefully.

Jack stared into the fire ahead of him, a look of consternation and pain painting his features. She’d placed an encouraging hand upon his knee. He turned his attention back to her and was about to open his mouth when Gibbs began speaking again.

He told the story of a young lad, eager to make a name for himself as a respectable company man, desperate to erase his pirate upbringing. Rising quickly through the ranks, he was granted a ship and a captaincy. One fateful day, he’d been tasked with transporting cargo from Africa back to the Caribbean, only the cargo was not what the young Captain had expected. Gibbs went on to tell her the whole sordid tale of Jack’s descent into piracy. He told her of Jack’s act of heroism when he freed the slaves he’d been transporting, of his grand escape from the East India Company, and of the foolish bargain Jack had made with the Captain of the Flying Dutchman.

“Thirteen years are almost up.” Gibbs finished. Elizabeth sat back in shock. Her pirate captain had not wished for a life of piracy at all, but had it thrust upon him all the same. Words he’d spoken to her during a previous visit, making far more sense knowing now the details of his own youth.

She’d been so engrossed in Gibbs’ tale; she hadn’t noticed Jack leave the bonfire midway through the telling. Finding him down the beach staring wistfully at his ship, Elizabeth crept quietly behind him and wrapped her arms about his waist, pressing her cheek against his back.

“Why do you insist on burying the best parts of you?” She whispered to him.

“For the same reasons you do, I imagine. Neither of our worlds can accept us as we are.” He answered glumly.

“Perhaps we should run away and start our own, then.” She suggested to him, turning him to face her, kissing away the frown plastered to his face.

“Where would we go?” He asked her with genuine curiosity.

“Back to the Island.” She answered back excitedly.

“Ah, see, that would have been a fine place, indeed, but someone took it upon themselves to burn up all of the rum.” He countered, looking down his nose at her.

She looked up at him with a sly smile. “An error in judgement.” She admitted. “We’d be there still, had I not been so foolish.” 

“Aye, as a pile of bones, more ’n likely.” He laughed.

“Is what you’re looking for really going to save you from the Dutchman?” She asked him, changing the subject, the worry evident on her face.

“With any luck. Don’t fret, love. The world isn’t done with Captain Jack Sparrow.” He assured her as he smoothed her hair.

“Neither am I.” She grinned wickedly. “Now, are you going to take me onto the Pearl, or do you plan on having your way with me right here on the beach for all the crew to see?” She traced her finger down the center of his chest, stopping to rest just above his waistband.

“I’ll have you wherever I wish.” He purred, trailing his mouth along her neck.

“Is that so?” She exhaled in breathy whisper.

“Is that going to be a problem, Miss Swann?”

“Only if you don’t get to it soon.” She warned him.

“Noted.” He said, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulder. She laughed wildly as he absconded her toward the Pearl.

“Do we need to worry about the crew?” She asked, looking back at the bonfire.

“Those lot won’t even notice we’ve gone.” He said, as the crew’s raucous laughter and singing echoed into the night.

Once they made it to his cabin, Jack placed Elizabeth back on her feet while he lit some candles about the room. It was cleaner than she remembered. Jack had restored his personal flare and rid all evidence of Barbossa having ever been there. She walked passed the bookshelf, admiring the volumes and volumes of books and all the varying trinkets from his travels adorning the shelves.

“See anything you like?” He questioned her from the window.

“Just one thing.” She said turning toward him with a sly smile. In two steps, he closed the distance between them and kissed her feverishly. “I’ve missed you.” She said breaking the kiss.

“Likewise, love.” He whispered before lifting her off of her feet and carrying her to the bed.

Later that evening she lay on her stomach in a tangle of linens, watching as Jack meandered bareback about the cabin. He carried himself more confidently on the Pearl than in her bedchamber. The fear of being caught no longer weighing him down, he was a force to be reckoned with and she realized she'd been making love to a subdued version of Jack Sparrow. She had to admit, there was something liberating about being able to appropriately express the passion he evoked in her.

“Now, that is a sight a man could get used to.” He said coming towards the bed, interrupting her thoughts as he knelt in front of her.

“I did offer.” She said sweetly after he kissed her.

“So you did.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her spine with the back of his hand.

She lifted herself up onto her elbows. “The offer still stands.” She purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Tempting as that offer still is, I couldn’t live with myself if I let you make such foolish choices. You’d enjoy the wind in your hair and the spray of salt on your face for a while, sure, but the luster of freedom would fade, leaving only disappointment in its wake.” 

“I’m afraid you don’t get to make my choices for me, Captain Sparrow. My father does enough of that. If I choose to take up the mantle of rogue, then that’s the final word on the matter.” She flopped onto her back, stretching her arms above her.

“Darling girl, don’t be absurd. What’s a filthy pirate ship compared to your feather bed and hand maids? Or seven course meals compared to hard tack and salted fish?”

She turned to him, her head propped up on her elbow. “What’s freedom on the open ocean compared to a stifling existence with a man I can only hope to love someday instead of the man I …”

“Careful, love.” He interrupted her with a finger to her lips. “Don’t want to be saying things ye can’t take back.”

“Would it be so awful if someone were to love you?” She said grabbing his hand, lovingly caressing his palm.

“What does a pirate need with such a thing like love? It can only lead to terrible things.” He grumbled with eyes downcast.

“Then I lose either way.” She dropped his hand and rose from the bed with the sheet clutched tightly to her, moving quickly to grab her clothing.

“Lizzie.” He said after her, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”

“Why do you keep coming back here?” She asked him in a huff, turning toward him with fiery eyes.

“Because you asked me to, love.” He smiled impishly.

She rolled her eyes at him, finding his evasiveness more than irritating. “And why should you be inclined to do as I ask?” She altered her questioning. “Surely you could have your pick of any wench in any port?”

“I do and have.” He said flippantly.

“Then why me?” She pressed him, backing him into a corner.

He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Elizabeth stared him down, eyes boring into his very soul. She wasn’t going to let him talk his way around this.

“Because you’re not just any wench, are you?” He blurted out at her, forcing her back a step. “You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known. Opinionated, passionate, fearless, and beautiful to boot. You’re a blasted siren luring me to my ruin upon the rocks, and as hard as I’ve tried to get you out of my head, you’ve somehow managed to permanently burn yourself onto me like the persistent chit you are!”

Once he’d finished shouting at her, a mere moment passed before she launched herself into his arms, capturing his mouth in a ravenous kiss. He responded in kind, unable to resist her fire, ready and willing to burn to ash upon her pyre.

Five more times they engaged in each other’s desires that night, carrying on uninhibited like wild animals in heat. But when morning came, his tune had changed without any further explanation. He’d gathered her clothes and told her get home before anyone noticed she was gone. She begged him not to make her go back, but he refused her and refused to meet her gaze. In a tearful fury, she dressed and left without another word to him.

In the months that followed, preparations for her wedding were well underway, and she couldn’t have been more miserable. She put on her best face for Will, but a black cloud was always looming close by. So many nights she cried herself to sleep. She’d felt used, confused, and heartbroken.

Six months passed since her parting with Jack and she’d not seen hide nor hair of the filthy scoundrel. She’d made a promise to herself to be strong, to move on, to enjoy her next adventure, but the promise was bitter on her tongue. Her wedding to Will was imminent, her fate all but sealed, but still, Jack Sparrow consumed her every thought, no matter how angry and hurt she’d felt.

She’d been standing on her balcony the night before the wedding, unable to sleep, a bottle of rum in hand as she let the cool breeze wash over her face. She longed to run away, realizing her stupidity for thinking she could still marry Will after giving all of herself to that infuriating miscreant. She’d always made light of her ruin at Jack’s hand, but the gravity of it had unsettled her to a point of no return. She was ruined in every sense of the word and there would be no coming back from it. A rustling and a pained grunt from the rose bushes below caught her attention, startling her from her lamentations. She peered into the darkness beneath her, but was unable to see who or what was moving about. It wasn’t until a blackened be-ringed hand gripped the railing of the balcony that she’d discovered what the source of the noise was. She froze at the sight of him bounding over the railing, her gut filling with elation, dismay and fury. He landed on nimble feet and was brushing the leaves from his person when he finally noticed her standing there.

“Elizabeth.” He said in slight surprise.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” She asked with no shortage of venom, bringing the bottle to her lips for added courage.

“I needed to see you.” He answered softly, eyes trained somewhere off into the distance.

“Well, you’ve seen me. Now, kindly find your way off of my balcony.” She hissed before turning back toward her room.

Jack grabbed her arm before she got too far from him.

“Get your hands off of me!” She seethed, tearing her arm away.

“Lizzie, please. Let me explain.” He begged her.

“Explain what?” She asked, her anger reaching a boiling point. “How you lied to me, how you used me, how you…” She was near hysterics, the volume of her voice rising. She’d had more than her fair share of rum and was barely maintaining control of herself.

“Shh, Elizabeth. Keep your voice down.” He said trying to reach for her.

“I will not keep my voice down! I should scream this whole house down and let them arrest you!” She shouted back at him.

With wide eyes, Jack quickly clamped his hand over her mouth and pushed her backwards against the doorframe, effectively trapping her. The bottle she’d been holding fell to the balcony with a deafening crash and Jack winced at the noise. “Would you shut it, you daft bird, and let me speak.” He seethed in frustration, pushing her harder against the frame.

She struggled against him, mumbling incoherent nonsense into his hand. He maintained his hold on her and pushed her again until she stilled. At the moment he loosened his grip, she pried an arm free and punched him square in the gut, escaping into her room while he was momentarily doubled over. He recovered quickly enough to go after her before she could lock him outside.

“Get away from me.” She barked, running to the door leading into the hallway.

Jack reached her before she could turn the knob and hooked an arm around her waist pulling her backward, toward the bed.  Turning her in his arms, he trapped her against the bed and pinned her arms wide. She tried her damnedest to wriggle free, but his grip on her was too strong. He made attempts to placate her with more apologies, but she wanted no more of his empty words. In a last-ditch effort to break free, she swung her head forward, whacking him in the nose. He stumbled back and she swiftly ran around the bed, pulling out a sword she’d hidden beneath her mattress. Unsheathing it, she held the blade at the pirate’s neck while he was hunched on the floor, tending to his bloodied nose.

“On your feet.” She commanded him.

Noticing the steel out of the corner of his eye, he lifted his head slowly.

“On. Your. Feet.” She repeated. Her words were shaky, but her hand was steady. “And keep your hands where I can see them.” She added.

Hands raised in the air, he stood before her. “Lizzie. Please let me…”

“Don’t speak. I want you to hear your options very clearly.” Her whole body was racked with tension absent of a perceivable outlet. If properly motivated, she felt she could take on the entire world with just the sword in her hand.

“Elizabeth.”

Just her name from his lips was enough to splinter said tension, but she needed to maintain the upper hand, if she ever had it to begin with. “Quiet.” She seethed “Or I _will_ scream.”

“You’d have done so already, if that was really your plan.” He argued, carefully inching closer to her.

“Do you think it wise to test me?” She threatened, pressing the point of the sword to his chest.

“What are you going to do with that, Lizzie?” He asked with infuriating condescension.

“I’ll run you through, if it comes to it.” She snapped.

“No, you won’t.” He said with simple certainty.

She was struck dumb by his arrogance, that he felt he knew her better than herself. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” She battled back, eager to show him the strength of her mettle.

“I know you’re not a murderer.” His voice dropped to a low tenor as he moved another step toward her.

“You think I don’t know how to use this?” She pressed the tip to his chest again, stopping his movements. 

“I didn’t say that.” He put his hands up in defense.

“Will taught me how to handle sword.”

Her words stopped Jack in his tracks and he quirked a curious eyebrow at her. “Is that right? And here I thought he’d never touched you.” He slung the sentence at her with a cavalier’s cool, but his jaw ticked ever so slightly.

“You’re a bastard, Jack Sparrow.” She didn’t bother to correct the misunderstanding of her words, glad to have chipped away at his ridiculous ego.

“You’re right about that.” He said taking another step toward her. Suddenly, Jack’s eyes had gone black, an emotion she’d never seen from him flashed wickedly across his face. “Tell me darling,” He began with another step forward. She stepped backward and hit the foot of her bed. Faltering at the contact, she let her sword hang limply in front of her, allowing Jack the advantage. “Is he able to satisfy that rapacious appetite of yours?” He wrapped his hand around her blade and held it to the side as he trapped her between himself and the bed. “Is he gentle with you?” He ran his finger along her jaw and slid his hand into her hair. “Or do you prefer something a bit rougher, from the honorable blacksmith?” He asked pulling her head back with a fistful of her hair. “Do you scream his name as loudly as you did mine?” He whispered hotly into her ear as he pressed his hips against hers.

“You’re disgusting.” She hissed at him in an attempt to resist his advances, though her body was begging her to give up the fight.

“What does that make you then, dearie?” He leered at her.

“Just another wench.” She gave him a shove and pulled her sword from his hand, leaving Jack with a lengthy gash along his palm. “Now, leave.” She ordered, lifting the sword in front of her once more.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He stood strong opposite her, paying no mind to the blood dripping from his wounded hand. 

“Why won’t you leave me be? What is it you want from me?” She cried out in frustration, unable to keep her composure any longer. Every inch of her was shaking.

“Everything. All of you.” He shouted, his voice echoing through the room dangerously loud.

“It’s too late. I’m marrying Will.” She whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You don’t love him.”

She dropped her sword to the floor in defeat, sobbing uncontrollably. “What do I need with a thing like love? It only leads to terrible things.”

A sound from the hallway drew their heads to the door.

“Lizzie, I’ve been a sodding fool. Please, come with me.” He begged hurriedly, holding out his hand to her as footsteps and voices were nearing her door.

Wiping her tears away, she straightened up. “What sort of future could I have with a filthy pirate?” She struck low and hard, rejecting him in one cold and calculated question, all while her heart was screaming at her to go with him.

He gave a curt nod and headed quickly onto the balcony, lest he be caught and sent back to the gallows. With one leg over the railing, something stopped him and he climbed back onto the balcony, marching toward her.

“Did you not hear a word I said?” She asked incredulously as he reached her.

“I don’t care.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. “I love you.” He finished, his eyes as serious as she’d ever seen them, melting her completely. Her tears were flowing freely as she fell against him, clinging to him with what little strength she had left. The two had forgotten completely the dangers standing on the other side of the wall and were caught when her father and two of his attendants burst through the door.

“Get him!” The governor had screamed as Jack bolted for the balcony. He climbed down the trellis before anyone could reach him and sprinted back toward the beach.

“He’s getting away, Sir.” One of the men spoke.

“Alert the Commodore at once. I want Jack Sparrow hanged tonight.” The governor ordered angrily. He turned to Elizabeth, filled with fatherly concern at the sight of tears on her face and blood on her shoulder. “Elizabeth, did he hurt you?”

Everything had happened so quickly, she’d barely enough time to register what was happening, the effects of the rum making her head spin. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears, she hadn’t heard the question until he asked for the third time, shaking her violently. “No.” She whispered, her eyes still trained on the balcony. “NO!” She screamed as she turned her attention back toward her father. “You can’t arrest him.” She said frantically, gripping the lapels of her father’s coat.

“He’s a criminal.”

“I love him!” She announced, forcing the governor to roll his eyes.

“Elizabeth, have some sense…”

She looked to the balcony then back to her father. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” She whispered and ran for the balcony.

“Elizabeth, where are you going?” He yelled after her as she climbed over the railing and down the trellis. “Are you mad?” He bellowed into the night.

“Yes!” She answered him as she ran through the garden and toward the path to the beach.

The roads were littered with soldiers, searching for Elizabeth and her Captain. The Commodore and the Young Mister Turner were both alerted to the situation and were desperate to find her. The Blacksmith knew at once where to find them and led a group of soldiers to the hidden beach where he and Elizabeth had spent their youth.

“At the ready.” He commanded and the soldiers held their muskets in front of them, poised to fire at the pirate rowing toward his ship. “Aim.” He continued, carefully watching his movements. She appeared as out of nowhere, running toward the sea. “Hold your fire.” He ordered and looked on sadly as his fiancé bounded into the ocean after the longboat, leaping into the pirate’s embrace.

“What are you waiting for, Turner?” A soldier had asked.

“They’re too far out.” He answered plainly, turning from the beach. “Don’t waste your powder. A pursuit by sea is the best course of action. I’m sure the Commodore already has ships readying their sails.”

“But your fiancé?” The soldier asked, confused by the boy’s behavior.

“She was never mine.” He stated sadly and walked away.

When she woke in the morning, the sun was beaming hot upon her face through his cabin window. She lay tangled in familiar sheets, the devil splayed across her stomach. She smiled, knowing this was not a dream. They had escaped from Port Royal unharmed, and they were free. He woke at her stirring, stretching his limbs like cat. He gave her a sideways smirk and whispered repeatedly “I love you” before rising from the bed. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward her, returning his sentiments with a sensuous kiss, tempting him to ignore his captainly duties and stay locked in the cabin for the remainder of the day. Disentangling himself from her, he promised to return once he was certain they were far enough ahead of the Commodore. He kept that promise and every other he’d made to her from that day on, as did she. They sailed into the horizon, tempting only one another, only tempted by the sea.

 

 


End file.
